


Drifting Together

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sga secret santa 2017, First Kiss, First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mission Fic, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: Team Sheppard's latest mission is a disaster from the get-go, but an act of desperate heroism leads to a new ally and an important relationship change.





	Drifting Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/gifts).



> My Secret Santa recipient asked for McShep, h/c, and first year of the expedition, amongst other things. I hope I didn't disappoint! Merry Christmas, clotpolelis!

They exited the space Gate and found themselves in the middle of a cosmic clusterfuck. 

Sheppard might have been able to deal with the asteroid field – Rodney was no expert but the man seemed especially competent behind the controls of the ‘jumper – but there was some sort of space anomaly unfolding at the same time and not even Han Solo would’ve been able to pilot that unscathed. 

“Hold on!” Sheppard shouted. 

Rodney tapped frantically at his datapad, trying to get sensor readings on the anomaly, which was invisible to the naked eye but lit up the infrared radar like a beacon. It was sending out pulses of energy that were buffeting the 'jumper and the asteroids around it. 

Chunks of rock slammed into the ‘jumper with loud clangs, and the view out the front kept jerking and jarring, even though the inertial dampeners kept them from feeling it. 

"McKay!" 

"I'm working on it!" 

Rodney was well aware of the protocol. He sent a message back to Atlantis through the still-open Gate, apprising them of the situation and advising against anyone else being sent through. There was no sign of the planet they'd come to investigate so Rodney used the long-range scanners to find one they could land on. 

The heads-up display flickered, as did the lights. 

"That seems bad," Teyla said. 

"It's not good," Ford replied. "Major, can you get us out of here?" 

"What do you think he's doing?" Rodney snapped. He didn't have the time to turn and give Ford one of his patented glares. "This isn't a joyride." 

Another pulse of energy from the anomaly had the 'jumper rolling like a ship at heavy sea, and Rodney's stomach rolled with it. Oh, no. 

"Inertial dampeners are failing!" 

"Tell me something useful, McKay!" 

Rodney thought that was pretty damn useful, because at the speeds they were traveling inertia would turn them all into puddles of goo. The lights flickered again and Rodney frantically scanned his datapad. 

"There! Breathable atmosphere!" He transferred the coordinates to the ship's navigation system and prayed the anomaly didn't knock out all their power systems. 

Sheppard executed some frankly stunning – and stomach-churning – maneuvers, and it was a wonder they didn't lose one of the drive pods in the process. Even the normally unflappable Teyla was looking green around the gills by the time they broke free of the asteroid field. 

"Nice flying, Sir," Ford said. 

"Hold that thought, Lieutenant," Sheppard replied tersely. "McKay, the electrical systems –" 

"Are also failing, I know, I know!" The energy pulses from the anomaly had been low-level EMPs; not strong enough to knock the 'jumper's systems out in one shot, but slowly depleting them. "Will you be able to land?" 

"Let's hope so." 

The planet Rodney had found was looming larger in the viewport. The sensors detected life forms on the surface, but with everything flickering and working sub-optimally, it was impossible to tell if they were human or animal. For all he knew, they'd be landing in the middle of a Wraith family reunion. 

"Switching to manual controls." 

All 'jumpers required pilots with the ATA gene, but even the risk-taking Ancients had prepared for emergencies. Maybe it was Rodney's imagination, but some of the tension seemed to leave Sheppard's shoulders once he had his hands on the controls. 

"Do you have any experience piloting through atmosphere, Major?" Rodney couldn't help asking. Just because someone knew how to handle themselves in an Apache or an F-16 didn't mean knew how to handle reentry from space. 

"I watched _Space Camp_ , does that count?" 

Rodney stared at Sheppard, incredulous, but the man kept his gaze firmly forward, a look of intensity on his face that belied his words. 

"I trust you to get us there safely," Teyla said. She gave Sheppard's shoulder a quick squeeze from her seat behind him. 

Rodney couldn't bear to watch, so he kept his eyes on the datapad, tracking their reentry via readings on the 'jumper's systems. He rerouted as much of their failing power as possible to the dampeners and hoped they hadn't lost too much hull integrity while they were getting pummeled with asteroids. Why the hell hadn't the Ancients given the 'jumpers shields as well as cloaking devices? 

Sheppard kept them from burning up in the atmosphere, though the inside of the 'jumper got much hotter than it should've, but that was where their luck ended. The additional strain on the systems shut everything down, and not even Han Solo would've been able to keep them from crashing. (And clearly Rodney needed to stop equating his life with _Star Wars_.) 

"Crash positions!" Sheppard shouted. 

Rodney hastily set aside the datapad and did as directed, tucking his feet back and bracing himself against the instrument panel, arms curled over his head. But he couldn't stop his mind from zipping through all the possibilities and eventualities. The 'jumper was moving too fast. If something didn't slow it down they'd be crushed by the force of the impact. They needed more drag. Of course! 

"Be right back!" He unbuckled and heaved himself out of his seat, swaying on his feet. Sheppard grabbed at him. 

"Sit the fuck down!" 

"One second! I have an idea!" 

Rodney pulled away and stumbled into the cargo hold. He pulled two of the military-issue sleeping bags out of storage and partially zipped them together, as fast as he could. He used the straps on the cargo netting to secure the bags inside the hold. 

"McKay!" 

"One second!" 

He made sure he was secured himself, running one whole arm through the netting and bracing his feet, before he hit the button to pop the rear hatch. That safety measure, luckily, was hooked to a backup battery that thankfully was small enough to not have lost all its juice, or it wouldn't have worked at all. 

The hatch blew and got sucked away, and the sleeping bags pulled out after it, blowing out into a makeshift parachute. The cold air was sucking at Rodney, too, and he realized that if he tried to let go of the cargo net he'd be sucked out himself. Shit. So much for crash position. 

The 'jumper shook and shuddered as it dropped lower, and along the bottom edge of the sleeping bags Rodney could the tops of trees. Trees were good. They'd create more friction, which would only help slow the 'jumper. 

Sheppard was shouting something but Rodney couldn't hear him over the noise of the wind and the clanging of trees against the underside of the ship. The downside of the trees was that one of them snagged the sleeping bags and wrenched the whole contraption out of the cargo hold. Including the part Rodney was holding on to. 

He had the sickening sensation of falling, one very clear image of the rear of the 'jumper, and then everything went white.

*o*o*o* 

Cold.

Really cold. 

Rodney came to, shaking uncontrollably. His hands were stiff, his face numb, and it took him a long moment to make sense of where he was. But then he remembered the asteroids and the crash and getting sucked out of the 'jumper. 

He was lying on his side in the snow, which was falling in big, fluffy flakes from a leaden sky. He was surrounded by broken tree limbs, and a portion of the cargo netting was draped over a nearby bush. 

Rodney pushed himself up – not easy between the shakes and the numb hands – and tried to take stock of his physical condition. The one whole side of his face was icy and numb, and it made him feel like he'd had a stroke. His head was pounding and there was blood on the snow, but he couldn't find the source of it which hopefully meant the bleeding had stopped. Probably because it was so damn cold. No broken bones, which seemed impossible, but the only places Rodney wasn't sore were the places he couldn't feel. 

The makeshift parachute must have slowed his fall. 

He reached for his radio but it was gone. Had the others survived the crash? Rodney hoped Sheppard hadn't done anything foolhardy, like trying to come back to the cargo hold to help him. Well, it would be easy enough to find out. The damage path stretched out in front of him. Or was it behind him? The heat from the 'jumper had melted a wide swath of the snow. 

Rodney struggled to his feet, bracing himself against a tree when everything started to spin. He probably had a concussion. Or maybe a brain bleed, a subdural hematoma that could kill him between one breath and the next. Or it could be -- 

The wind picked up, blowing the snow around, and Rodney wrapped his arms around himself, tucking his hands into his armpits. The cold was going to kill him before the head injury did. He had to find the others. Surely Teyla was resourceful and could build a fire or something. Her people were used to doing without luxuries. 

Rodney examined the trees. If he wanted to pick the right direction, he had to determine which way the 'jumper had been traveling, and the best way to do that was to follow the direction of greater damage. And the sooner he got walking the better. Maybe he could warm himself up. 

It was slow going. Everything hurt, so Rodney was doing more of a shuffle than a walk. The light was fading, the sky growing darker by the minute, and the wind picked up even more until he could barely see where he was going. Rodney kept moving. He had to make sure Sheppard and the others were okay. His team. Sheppard would get them out of this mess, just like always. 

Rodney walked even when his feet went numb. Kept moving forward even though his lashes were crusted over with ice. He didn't notice when the shivering stopped. He just kept moving, one thought in his head on a loop: _Get to Sheppard_. 

When the giant wearing an impossible amount of fur stepped in front of him, Rodney didn't have the strength to fight him off even if he'd had the ability. 

"D-d-don't..." he stuttered, and then immediately forgot what he was going to say. Don't what? Stop him? Eat him? 

Rodney was so tired. He closed his eyes, just for a second, and when he collapsed into unconsciousness the furry giant caught him before he hit the snowy ground.

*o*o*o* 

Someone was rubbing Rodney's feet, and it felt really good. Warm, strong fingers ran along the arch and spread his toes, rubbing each one in turn. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had massaged his feet. That girl in college, the one with the eczema, what was her name? It didn't matter.

"Nice," he murmured. 

"Need to keep your circulation going," a strange voice answered. 

Rodney's eyes popped open. He was lying in a nest of furs next to a campfire and his bare feet were in a strange man's lap. A very large man with long dreadlocks and oddly pointed eyebrows and a gun strapped to his hip. 

He yanked his feet out of the guy's lap. "Hey!" 

The guy held his hands up. "Just trying to make sure your toes don't fall off." 

They were in a cave, and Rodney suddenly remembered being out in a snowstorm, remembered being so cold he could barely move. He tentatively flexed his appendages. There were some pins and needles in his hands, and he was stiff from falling out of the 'jumper and the subsequent bruising he incurred, but there didn't seem to be any permanent damage. 

Even the pain in his head had dimmed from jagged stabbing to a persistent ache. When Rodney reached up to touch the tender area he was surprised to feel stitches. 

"Did you...?" 

The guy just shrugged. "You were bleeding a lot." 

Rodney was alarmed that he'd slept through a literal caveman poking him with a needle. How long had he been out? 

"Oh, no! My team! Not to seem unappreciative of your hospitality, but I have to find my friends." 

There was no telling what kind of shape his team was in. The 'jumper was dead, which meant no heat, and no way to seal off the open cargo hold. Two of the sleeping bags were gone. What if someone ( _Sheppard_ ) was injured? What if the 'jumper had landed on a precipice or in an icy lake? While Rodney was lounging around on furs like some kind of Hollywood starlet his friends could be dead or dying. 

"You can't go." 

"Yes, well, I don't have a choice." Rodney stood up, wincing and groaning as his stiff muscles stretched. The cave got a little wobbly for a second or two, and he belatedly realized he'd been stripped of more than just his shoes: his tac vest and sidearm were missing. 

"You should probably sit down." 

Rodney took a deep breath and regained some of his equilibrium. "Sheppard doesn't have that 'no man left behind' thing trademarked. He's probably out there looking for me right now, the idiot, and I'm pretty sure it's my turn to save him." 

Dreadlocks calmly pulled his weapon and pointed it at Rodney. "You can't go. It's not safe." 

"Oh, and you shooting me is safer? I don't think so." 

It took all the nerve Rodney had to walk past his would-be captor, the stone floor bumpy and cool against his bare feet. With every step he expected to feel a bullet in his back. But he made it to the mouth of the cave, which was covered over with dead vines, and peered out. Shit. 

There was nothing beyond the cave but drifting sheets of snow. The light was dim, a little darker than twilight, and he could just barely make out shapes that might have been trees. How was he supposed to find the 'jumper in that? Frustration curled his hands into fists. He hated not having control. If only he had an LSD or a handy tauntaun or _something_. 

"Look," Rodney said when he went back by the fire. "I'm Dr. Rodney McKay, and I come from the City of the Ancestors. If there's something you want, I can get it for you. Anything. But I have to find my teammates before they freeze to death." 

Technically he wasn't supposed to mention Atlantis to the natives, in case they turned out to be murderous assholes like the Genii, but he was desperate. 

Dreadlocks holstered his gun. He gave Rodney an appraising look. "There's nothing you can do for me." 

He poked at the fire, which was being vented out through a hole in the rocky ceiling, and pulled a couple of oblong, knobby items from the coals. He tossed one to Rodney, who fumbled it with a curse. 

"Don't throw hot things at me! I just barely avoided freezer burn!" Rodney dropped it on the furs. "What is this, anyway?" 

"Food. Don't waste it." 

It didn't look like food. It looked like a dirty rock. But the guy pulled a knife from out of his hair – that couldn't possibly be sanitary – and cut the thing open, releasing a puff of steam and revealing a blue-tinted interior. 

"Is it a potato?" 

"What's a potato?" 

"Never mind." Rodney sat down, putting him eye-to-eye with his captor/rescuer. 

"I'm a genius. Did I mention that? You'd be surprised what I can do. Not here, of course. Or right now. But if you come back to Atlantis we can get you anything you want." 

"You said you're a doctor?" 

"Yes, but --" 

"I accept your offer." The guy took a big bite of his not-potato. "Specialist Ronon Dex. I need you to take a thing out of my back." 

Rodney sighed. It was like the universe was out to destroy him. "I'm not that kind of doctor." 

"You said 'anything'." 

"Yes, I know what I said, but I can't do surgery, not even if I had the proper tools. But back at my city we have a very competent medical doctor who'd be more than happy to help you." 

"When the weather clears you can bring him here. Right now it's too dangerous for either of us to be out there." Ronon used his hair knife to cut open Rodney's not-potato. 

"Okay, that was unnecessary. And a little disgusting." 

"Shut up and eat." 

Rodney was going to refuse the so-called meal, but his stomach was starting to grumble and the last thing he needed was to get hypoglycemic. 

"We can't risk bringing more people here. There's an anomaly up there, above the atmosphere, and it's emitting electromagnetic pulses. Anyone who tries will crash the same way we did." Rodney took a bite of the not-potato and tried not to make a face at the bitter taste of it. "Is that how you got here? I mean, since we're on the subject. Do you have a ship?" 

"Hitched a ride." Ronon produced at least seven more knives, and a whetstone. "I heard this planet was uninhabited and dangerous to travel to." 

"Wait. You came here on purpose?" 

Ronon proceeded to tell Rodney a story that gave him a whole new horrific appreciation for the merciless nature of the Wraith. Tagging people like animals and hunting them for sport? Rodney was accustomed to being the top of the food chain, but everything was different in Pegasus. He wasn't sure he'd have agreed to travel to Atlantis if he'd known. 

In return, Rodney told Ronon about his team and why it was so important that he find them. Sheppard was reckless and heroic and all too willing to throw himself in harm's way. Teyla was the level-headed one, cool grace masking the ass-kicking warrior princess she really was. Ford was the youngest of them and the most wide-eyed about every new thing. 

Rodney told Ronon about the Genii invading Atlantis, and how Sheppard had almost single-handedly fought an entire army of them to retake the city. He'd come to Rodney after, to make sure the wound on his arm was properly seen to and to tell him not to beat himself up about breaking under torture. _It's not your job to deal with situations like that_ , he'd said. _You did good. You kept yourself and Elizabeth alive. I'm proud of you._

Somewhere along the line Sheppard's opinion started meaning a lot to Rodney. Maybe too much. 

"We can look for them when the storm lets up," Ronon said. "I'm not dying for your team, and you're not either." 

Rodney hated him a little for that, even though he knew Ronon was right; he wouldn't last five minutes in that blizzard. He only hoped Sheppard had come to the same conclusion. 

If he was still alive.

*o*o*o*

_Everything is blanketed in a thick layer of snow, crusted over and glittering like diamonds. Rodney's in it up to his knees, pushing through the drifts even though he can't feel his legs anymore._

_"Sheppard! Where are you?"_

_His voice is so loud in the stillness. Everything is muffled by the snow, even the far distant birdsong. The sun shining off all that unbroken, glistening snow is hurting Rodney's eyes, but he just squints and pushes on._

_"Sheppard!"_

_The storm had howled around the cave all night, but now the landscape is still and serene. Too still. Where's Teyla? Ford?_

_"Sheppard!"_

_And then Rodney sees him, and he grins in relief. Of course Sheppard is okay. That man is indestructible. He waves and heads over to where Sheppard is standing, but the closer he gets the more he can see that something is wrong._

_Sheppard is frozen. Literally. He got caught mid-step and when Rodney gets close enough he can see that Sheppard's skin might well be made of porcelain, it's so pale and solid. His eyes are iced over._

_Rodney can't breathe. Can't think. Wishes his own heart would freeze in his chest so it would stop hurting._

_"Sheppard," he whispers._

_He reaches out with one trembling hand and touches Sheppard's icy face, and as soon as he does a crack appears. Rodney snatches his hand back but it's too late. More cracks fan out from the first one and then a chunk of Sheppard's face breaks off and falls in the snow._

_Rodney screams and backs away, wishing he could close his eyes. But he can't. He can't help but watch as more and more pieces of Sheppard break off, fall away, until the man is just a pile of rubble in the snow. One ice-covered hazel eye stares up at the sky._

_"Oh, no."_

*o*o*o*

Rodney reluctantly shared one of his Power Bars with Ronon in the morning and secured the return of his tac vest. He didn’t expect to get his sidearm and wasn't too disappointed when he didn't.

"We need to go back where you found me," Rodney said. "I'm sure the snow covered our tracks, but the crash path should still be easy to see." 

"We'll be easy to see, too," Ronon replied. He dug through the pile of furs and extracted two that were grayish-white. He slung one over his own shoulders, fastening it in front with some sort of clip, and then did the same for Rodney. 

"This thing smells like a dead wet dog." 

"Better than freezing." 

It was hard to argue with that. Rodney felt a little like he was in one of the Lord of the Rings movies; all he needed was a sword. 

He was eager to get moving and find his team, especially after that unsettling dream, but Ronon insisted on caution. He was worried about the Wraith coming, though Rodney was pretty sure the electromagnetic pulses from the anomaly would've rendered the tracker as dead as the 'jumper. Ronon also made Rodney walk directly behind him, something about hiding their number as if they were Sand People roaming the desert. 

It wasn't just slow going because of Ronon. The snow was fluffy but deep, up to Rodney's knees, and pushing through quickly became exhausting. His legs were going numb, but at the same time he was overheated from the fur. And he'd woken up so stiff that even just standing up had been an agony all its own. He'd retrieved some pain killers from his med kit, but they barely took the edge off. 

"You should think about staying in Atlantis," Rodney said to Ronon's back. "We could use someone with your skills. And, you know. Your first-hand knowledge of dealing with the Wraith." 

Ronon grunted, which could’ve meant anything. Rodney didn’t press him on the subject, just focused on putting one foot in front of the other and hoping there was solid ground under all that snow. 

Life in the Pegasus galaxy wasn’t anything like Rodney had imagined before he stepped through the event horizon into Atlantis. He’d been blinded by the prospect of scientific discovery beyond what anyone else had ever been involved in and hadn’t thought about all the ways things could go wrong when they were cut off from Earth. Or how different life would be in another galaxy. 

Ford had once asked Teyla what the Athosians did for fun. She'd patiently explained that their lives, like so many in a world plagued by the Wraith, were focused on survival. Growing and hunting their food, procreating to ensure that their people wouldn't die out, and teaching their children self-defense strategies disguised as games. There was little time for fun when a culling beam from a Dart could mean the end of everything. 

Although now that Rodney had met Ronon, he had to wonder which was worse: being used by the Wraith for food or entertainment? 

"If you come to Atlantis you won't have to look over your shoulder all the time," Rodney said when the quiet got too much for him. "Well, provided you stick to designated areas. The Ancients left a lot of pretty dangerous stuff just laying around like discarded Tinker Toys." 

For an advanced race, the Ancients had been incredibly selfish and careless. Rodney had seen Elizabeth struggle with that because she, like so many of the scientists, had seen the Ancients as wise, benevolent beings. But they were more human than anyone had anticipated. 

Sheppard had been pretty disdainful of the Ancients from the beginning and, since he had the strongest genetic tie to the city, Rodney figured he'd know best. 

"Sheppard survived that crash. I know he did. That man is like a cat; he has nine lives. You wouldn't believe some of the things he's lived through. Well, maybe you would. I don't --" 

"Stop talking," Ronon said brusquely. 

Rodney scowled at his back. "Oh, am I bothering you? I'm just trying to --" 

"McKay!" Ronon snapped, and pulled his gun. 

"Sorry!" Rodney held his hands up, certain he was about to die because he couldn't stop running his mouth, but then Ronon was assuming a very familiar protective stance in front of him. Rodney was still new to the whole gun-slinging thing, but he knew he'd feel a little better if he had his weapon. 

“What is it?” he hissed. 

“Verden.” 

“What the hell is that?” Rodney tried to look around Ronon, but the big guy kept shifting. “Person? Place? Virulent disease?” 

“Stop. Talking.” 

Rodney couldn’t help it. When he was nervous, he babbled. And not knowing what had Ronon on the defensive was making him nervous as hell. And then he could hear it, whatever it was, grunting and chittering. It sounded big. Too big. 

“Shoot it!” 

“Can’t,” Ronon rumbled back in a low voice. “Power cell is drained.” 

Drained. That meant his gun must be a pulse weapon of some kind, rendered useless by the anomaly. Rodney would be really interested in taking a look at it once his life wasn’t being threatened. 

“Give me my gun,” Rodney said, poking Ronon in the back. “It still works. No battery power needed.” 

Ronon produced the gun from underneath his fur drapery, but he didn't hand it back to Rodney. Instead he gave it a quick once-over and then pointed it at the danger Rodney still couldn't see. 

"Hey! You have to take the safety off, stupid!" 

Damn Ronon for being so tall. Not that Rodney was all that keen on grappling for a loaded weapon, he'd seen enough movies to know how that usually ended. But his sidearm was his responsibility, something John had hammered into him a thousand times. Still, the pushing and shoving did give Rodney a nice, clear view of the enemy. 

It was rats. 

Well, the Pegasus version of rats anyway. Whitish-gray fur -- Oh, no, was he _wearing_ a dead one on his back? -- roughly the size of a large dog, with powerful-looking legs and a long, whip-like tail. One of Rodney's college roommates had kept rats as pets and that hadn't endeared the rodents to him in the slightest. Especially not now when there were eight of them approaching with bared fangs and chittering growls. 

If Sheppard had been there he'd probably have made some inane comment about Rodents of Unusual Size. 

“Give me the gun!” Rodney shouted. 

“Get down!” Ronon bellowed at the same time. He shoved Rodney, who went sprawling backwards into the snow just as the first of the big rats charged. 

Rodney floundered for a long moment, snow getting into his ears and eyes and down the back of his shirt, before he regained his feet. Ronon was rolling around on the ground with one of the big rats, trying to choke it out, while the others continued to advance. 

“What do I do?” Rodney’s heart was pounding in his ears. “What would Sheppard do?” 

He’d figure out some heroic last-minute save, that’s what he’d do, and Rodney looked around for something he could use as a weapon. A handy length of tree-branch or a big rock would do in a pinch, but of course everything was covered in a foot or more of snow. 

The next rat was poised to leap when a shot rang out and it dropped, blood splattered across the snow. Rodney let out a yelp and looked at Ronon, thinking he’d figured out how to turn the safety off, but he was using the gun to beat his furry combatant in the head. So how…? 

“McKay! Don’t move!” 

Sheppard’s voice, though Rodney couldn’t tell what direction it was coming from. A rapid succession of gunshots followed, dropping several more of the rats before they decided run for cover in the trees. 

While he stood there open-mouthed and gaping, Rodney’s team appeared as if by magic, cresting a small, snow-covered rise. It was just like Sheppard to swoop in with a dramatic and timely rescue, like something out of a movie, and Rodney had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. So much so that he had to stop himself from running over to meet them. 

Instead he gave Ronon a hand up. The big guy had some nasty looking gashes on neck but seemed otherwise unharmed. He was still holding Rodney's sidearm like a club and resumed his earlier defensive posture. 

"No, it's okay. It's my team." 

His team. Only that wasn't all they were, not really. Maybe it was the constant life or death struggle, that whole forged-by-fire mentality, but Sheppard, Teyla and Ford were more than just a team. They were something a little closer to family. 

"Jesus, McKay," Sheppard said. "Thought we lost you." 

The right side of his face was swollen and crisscrossed with scratches, and his left arm was strapped tight to his body, but he was alive and that's all that mattered to Rodney. 

"I think you almost did." 

"Your head." Sheppard handed off his P90 to Ford, and gently probed the area around the gash that Ronon had stitched up. 

"I'm fine." 

"It is good to see you, Rodney," Teyla said. She reached out and took hold of his hand. "We did not give up hope of finding you alive." 

The three of them were wearing makeshift ponchos created from the mylar safety blankets that were kept stowed on the 'jumpers, making them look a little like 1950s versions of travelers from the future. 

Aside from some bruises, Teyla and Ford looked okay. Rodney was relieved. It had been all too easy to imagine the worst, especially in the face of a blizzard and sub-zero temperatures. 

Sheppard was still touching Rodney's head, his touch like a low-level electrical charge. "You sure you're okay? Nothing's broken?" 

Rodney shook his head, unable to look away. Sheppard seemed genuinely concerned, and it made something catch in his throat. 

"He looks okay to me, Sir," Ford said. Rodney noticed he was hanging back, his posture as defensive as Ronon's. "I'd like to know more about his big friend." 

"Oh! Uh, this is Ronon. He saved me from turning into an ice sculpture." 

Ronon just stood there, watching them all warily and saying nothing. 

"Thank you very much for helping our friend," Teyla said. "I am Teyla Emmagan of the Athosians." 

"Specialist Ronon Dex. Sateda." Ronon lowered Rodney's gun. "I've heard of the Athosians. Have you also been to the City of the Ancestors?" 

Sheppard's look of concern morphed into one of exasperation and he stepped back from Rodney. "McKay." 

"I had to! I needed his help to find you. I'm not a tracker or a jarhead, and without any tech there's only so much I could do." Rodney already missed the gentle, warming touch of Sheppard's fingers against his cold skin. "Besides, he could be a real asset to all of us. Tell them about the running thing, Ronon." 

"Perhaps we could talk some place out of the elements," Teyla suggested. 

Ford nodded. "I second that." 

"This is not a democracy," Sheppard said. "So. Specialist Dex. Your place or ours?" 

"How far are we from the 'jumper?" Rodney asked. He felt like they'd been walking for hours already and the thought of backtracking wasn't appealing. 

"Not far." 

"Ronon has a cave, but I'm not sure we'll all fit in there. Is the 'jumper secured against the weather?" 

Sheppard cocked up one eyebrow in that infuriating way he had. "Well, I'm no Eager Beaver, but I managed to rig something." 

Rodney flushed, uncertain if he was annoyed at the teasing or flattered that Sheppard had remembered such a small detail from one of their first offworld overnight missions. 

"Well, let's get going before my feet freeze completely." 

"Nice to have you back, Doc," Ford said with a grin.

*o*o*o*

When the 'jumper finally made contact with the ground, it partially buried itself in the side of a hill. The cockpit was a mess, full of dirt and so many thick tree branches it was a wonder no-one had gotten skewered. On the plus side, all that debris acted as insulation against the inclement weather.

At the other end, where the rear door had been blown out, the remaining sleeping bags had been secured over the hatch along with another of the mylar blankets. The gaps had been covered with mud and pine boughs, leaving a space big enough to crawl through to get in and out. 

There was no way to safely vent a fire inside, so Ronon built one next to the 'jumper; he cooked the small deer-like creature he'd managed to successfully hunt on their hike to the crash site. Freshly barbecued meat was enough to win the rest of the team over. 

"Seven years is a long time to be a Runner," Teyla said. "You must be very skilled at survival." 

Ronon shrugged. "Better than being sucked dry." 

He'd been reluctant to stay with them, which was apparently thanks to years of conditioning. The Wraith took pleasure in punishing anyone that helped Ronon, and he'd learned not to stay in once place very long or to get involved with other people. It sounded like a lonely, terrible way to have to live. 

Rodney sat next to Sheppard, so close they were touching from knee to shoulder, doubly thankful for the human contact. It was also nice to feel full, which certainly hadn't been achieved with the not-potato or the Power Bars. 

The inside of the 'jumper was lit by glow sticks, giving everything a sickly greenish cast. While they couldn't have an actual fire in there, Ford and Ronon had worked out a way to bring some of the hot coals in and contain them. 

"Any suggestions on how we get off this planet?" Sheppard asked. "I'd like to avoid a _Swiss Family Robinson_ scenario." 

"There's no way to recharge the power systems," Rodney replied, because he'd been trying to work through the problem. "And even if we did, this thing isn't flying anywhere. Atlantis should have received our message, but unless that anomaly shuts down the recovery team won't be able to get here without crashing too." 

If only they had an Asgardian transport beam, like the ones that operated in the transporters back on Atlantis. If Rodney was there he might've been able to rig something – the technology was there, it just needed to be disassembled and reassembled in a more portable way – but he wasn't sure Zelenka would even think of using the transporters. 

"The beacon should still be transmitting, though, right?" Ford asked. 

"In theory. The battery that the beacon runs off should be small enough to withstand the effects of the electromagnetic pulses. But continued exposure is going to wear it down, just like the batteries to Ronon's pulse pistol." 

"So much for the three hour tour," Sheppard muttered to himself. 

Rodney nudged him with his shoulder. "If you start singing that theme song I'm throwing a hot coal at you." 

Sheppard grinned at him, and for a moment Rodney forgot their dire predicament. He could imagine all too easily what it would be like to lean in and kiss Sheppard, feel the heat of his mouth under Rodney's. 

"You okay?" Sheppard asked, his smile fading to a look of concern. 

Rodney blushed. "Fine. Just fine. You know, if we could access the drones I might be able to siphon some power off them. Their shielding is a lot better than what the 'jumpers have." 

"What would be the purpose of that?" Teyla asked. 

"At the very least we could access the long-range scanners, see if there are any settlements close by." 

"No-one lives here," Ronon said. 

"Do you know that for sure?" Sheppard leaned forward, the elbow of his good arm resting on his knee. The other arm, Rodney had learned, was strapped down because Sheppard had dislocated his shoulder and made Ford pop it back in heedless of possible damage to the tendons or ligaments. 

"Yeah. I do." 

Sheppard sighed. "Okay. So we figure out the best way to stay alive until we can come up with something. McKay, tomorrow you and Ford see if you can get to the drones without exposing the cargo hold to the elements. We'll take whatever power we can get." 

"Why wait? I can do it now." Rodney started to get up but Sheppard held up his hand. 

"The days here are really short and the temperature is going to plummet as soon as the sun goes down. We'll wait for morning. It's not worth getting frostbite. Besides, we could all use the rest." 

Rodney wanted to protest, but he really was tired. It was probably a combination of the long walk through deep snow and the attack of the giant rats. Not to mention how sore he still was. 

It was close quarters for sleeping, due to the lack of space and the need for shared body heat to stay warm. They shared the mylar blankets and Ronon's furs, and Rodney ended up sandwiched between Sheppard and Ronon; the big guy had to curl up quite a bit to fit. Teyla was on Ronon's other side, next to Ford. 

Teyla hummed an Athosian tune, and Rodney's eyes started to droop. It was a little weird, sleeping so close, but it was nice too. Cozy. Even as tired as he was, Rodney was hyper aware of Sheppard's presence next to him. Every breath, every small movement. It wasn't the first time they'd bunked together offworld, but never in such close quarters. 

"Glad we didn't lose you," Sheppard murmured next to Rodney's ear. 

"Me, too," Rodney whispered back. 

"You ever do something like that again I'll feed you to the Wraith myself." 

"Noted, Major," Rodney replied with a yawn. 

He was almost sure, as he finally surrendered to sleep, that he felt Sheppard's hand on his chest. Right over his heart.

*o*o*o*

Rodney woke to chaos. Several people were shouting, something crashed with a loud metallic clang, and someone whistled so shrilly it made Rodney wince.

"That's enough! This is the infirmary, not the Marine training area!" 

Marie? Rodney pushed himself up, startled to find that he was no longer spooned up with John in the back of the 'jumper but lying on a bed in the infirmary on Atlantis. Ronon had been wrestling with a couple of the Marines, one of whom had possession of the pulse pistol, and John was in the middle of it all trying to calm everyone down. 

"How the hell did we get here?" Rodney asked during the moment of surprised silence Marie's whistle had caused. 

"Magic of technology," Radek said smugly from a spot near the door. 

In fact, the infirmary was full of people: Elizabeth, Carson, Radek, several Marines, Grodin, and Miko. Rodney yanked the blanket up over himself, even though he was still fully clothed. 

"The transporters?" 

"Of course. We cannot get so easily to the South pier now, but that is a minor concern." 

Rodney promptly forgot about everything else. He threw off the blanket and hopped out of bed. "I want to see it." 

"Rodney, I need your team's report," Elizabeth said. 

He waved her off. "Yes. Later. This is important. Oh, and give Ronon back his pistol. It doesn't work anyway." 

"Rodney, I need to examine you," Carson protested. "Your head --" 

"Is fine for the moment. The Major needs your doctoring more than I do. And I promised Ronon you'd remove a Wraith tracking device from his back, so make sure you do that, too." 

He spent the next three hours in the lab with Radek, going over the beaming device he'd created from the transporter. The recovery team had been able to successfully use it to beam AR-1 out of the damaged 'jumper and into the functional one, and from there straight to the infirmary. It was an impressive bit of work, especially in such a short amount of time, and Sergeant Markham deserved a lot of credit for the masterful way he'd piloted the 'jumper. 

Of course, Rodney would've gotten it done sooner. And more efficiently. 

He was wired by the time he got back to his quarters for a much-needed shower and change of clothes, thanks to about a gallon of coffee. Rodney's head was also whirring with possibilities for their new beaming capabilities, and the brainstorming he'd done with Radek about using the cloaking device on the 'jumper to be able to create a shield as well. 

Sheppard was waiting for him, sitting on the edge of Rodney's bed. He'd obviously changed and showered himself, and was sporting a proper sling for his injured arm. 

"Oh, right," Rodney said. "The debrief. I need to shower first." 

"Rodney." Sheppard pushed up from the bed. "I'm not here about the debrief." 

There was something about the tone of his voice, and the serious set to his expression, that had Rodney flushing. Suddenly his mouth felt too dry, his throat clicking when he swallowed. Sheppard moved, coming to stand in front of Rodney. 

"Major?" 

"John," Sheppard prompted. 

Rodney licked his lips. "Why...I mean, what...?" 

"I thought you died," Sheppard – _John_ – said. 

It wasn't much of an explanation, but in the next moment John was kissing him and explanations didn't seem to matter anymore. It was a rough kiss, John's mouth working over his with force and intent and tongue, and it was amazing. Rodney clutched at him, pulled him closer, and John came willingly, plastering himself against Rodney. 

The kiss felt like it lasted hours, yet still seemed too brief when John pulled back. He had a loose, happy expression on his still-swollen face, and Rodney wanted to kiss him again. So he did. It was better than any of the fantasies he'd indulged in. 

This time he was the one who pulled back. "Is this just because we almost died?" 

"Maybe," John said. His good arm was wrapped around Rodney, and he gave a little squeeze. "Probably not." 

That was good enough for Rodney.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Thanks so much to nagi_schwarz for the beta and the support! Couldn't do this without you, kid!
> 
> Also, please excuse any inconsistencies regarding the crash of the 'jumper. My knowledge of science and flying things is pretty much non-existent. ::grins:: And I don't know if the 'jumpers have safety harnesses, but if they don't they certainly should.


End file.
